Servants of the Sands, page 35
He sat up slowly, attentive to the least scritch of stone and shift of wind. It seemed likely that he was alone. He stretched awareness to the limit and found no sense of another life nearby. Swinging his legs round and scooting his back against the cliff face assured him that the ledge was at least large and solid enough that he wouldn’t tumble off with a careless movement. He could feel more patterns carved in the stone beneath him. Not decorations, at a guess, but more likely to be warding sigils.
The screech came again, closer. More awake now, he identified it as an owl of some sort. He sighed and leaned his head back against the stone. So much for hoping he hadn’t upset the teyanain. Something, apparently, had tipped the balance of their regard after all.
He looked up, studying the stars overhead, picking out the Lion and the Hunter. The Lion sprawled low in the sky, the Hunter in eternal pursuit: Dawn was close.
Allonin stretched forward over his legs, working out cramps in his back and shoulders. He winced at the bruises making themselves aggressively known. Not for the first time, he wished he had the accelerated healing of a true desert lord. But that came directly from the exchange with the ha’reye, and lay outside the reach of a mere human. Instead, he’d trained himself to largely ignore pain and exhaustion, especially in crisis situations.
First look at the aches, he reasoned, and determine if anything needed immediate attention. His stomach felt bloated and achy—probably a side effect of the drug on a largely empty system. Hips, legs, shoulders, back and arms felt bruised from his tumble onto the floor, not to mention whatever rough handling they’d used while bringing him here.
Stretching and warmth would work that out in time. He curled his legs into a meditation pose and sat silently, eyes shut. Where were Lamb and Tenny? Not here, which suggested one of two possibilities: Either Allonin had been the target, and they’d been removed to strip him of any assistance, or they’d been the target, and he was out here to keep him from interfering with whatever the teyanain were doing.
Head of the teyanain is Lord Evkit. His second is Dinas Teyantin. Nobody else could have given an order to scoop up an Aerthraim, let alone someone with Lamb’s connections. Whether they’d show themselves directly was an open question.
Violent intent—towards Allonin, at least—seemed unlikely. He still wore all of his clothes, thin and unsuited to the mountain wind as they were. He had his belt pouch, belt and boot knives. Without moving, he didn’t know if his pack lay nearby, and without knowing more about his surroundings it was too high a risk to search for that answer.
Nothing to be done now but to wait. He settled into a light aqeyva trance, letting go of attachment to mental and physical strain, simply existing for the moment. It was surprisingly restful. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really sat still for a while.
After a time, his stomach rumbled, and his bladder ached. He blinked back to full awareness. The air had lightened to the hazy grey of approaching dawn. As he’d half expected, a steep drop waited five steps away to one hand, a sheer cliff face five steps to the other. His pack lay a scant step from the edge. Definitely teyanain.
They loved this sort of game, and considered it a test. If the prisoner went over the cliff... well, that was one indication that he hadn’t been worth speaking to in the first place. Allonin couldn’t complain. The Aerthraim performed their own tests, not as visibly sharp but no less cruel.
He stood, carefully stretching before trusting his weight to cold-stiffened muscles, then moved to the edge of the drop. Good thing I don’t mind heights, he thought as he surveyed the jagged line of rocks sloping into the water far below.
The land curved north and east, the silhouette of Bright Bay just barely visible as the light cleared further. He was on the east side of the Horn, then, and about halfway between the end of Kingdom soil and the beginning of Water’s End.
Nothing below but rocks meant he could relieve himself safely. He angled his back to the wind and steadied himself, expecting an attempt to startle him over the edge. But there were no sharp noises, no sudden movements nearby, no birds wheeling abruptly close. He finished and stepped back to safety without incident, catching his pack up as he retreated.
He turned, searching the stone wall, and realized that there was no door. But there was a doorway, a narrow opening set at a slant. The passageway beyond was hidden from a straight-on view, the opening itself nearly invisible to a casual glance due to the blend of rock against rock.
“Interesting,” he said under his breath, intrigued. He’d always avoided dealing with the teyanain, basing his expectations on accounts from trusted books and from those who did have direct experience. This situation was increasingly not covered by his research.
No point sitting outside in the cold. If they’d left him a way in, he’d damn well take it and see what happened. He gathered courage and confidence and walked into the passage. It proved narrow, barely wide enough for one person with elbows held out to each side—and unlit.
Also a good thing I don’t get nervous in tight spaces. The dark was a problem, but not an insurmountable one. He’d spent years training himself to work in as many dark and unfamiliar environments as possible. Lamb had given him quite a bit of help with that. The man evidenced an incredible talent for what he called ‘blindsight.’
Allonin shut his eyes, set his fingertips against each wall, and moved forward with steady, slow caution. The floor sloped noticeably downward, with occasional ridges cut into the rock for better footing. After a few steps, it curved to the left in a slow turn that went on long enough to be a spiral of at least three levels. No other openings presented themselves.
The turn flattened out into a right-leading passageway that soon became a steep stairwell. Allonin took the steps even more slowly than he’d already been moving, testing each one to be sure it was the same height as the last, then checking the angle of the walls, reaching up on occasion to test whether the ceiling was lowering.
The stairwell ended. The walls ended. Air currents moved against his face. He stood still, listening, gauging, then scuffed a foot to see where the sound would travel. Not a large room, by the sound, but something gave him doubts as to the floor ahead.
He edged sideways, feeling for the wall to his right, then set his back against that and moved step by step, testing, listening. His right arm was extended to feel along the wall, left arm bent protectively before his face.
The wall turned sharply right. A doorway, built of block, not smoothed stone. A few moments of feeling around confirmed that guess, and that the man-made passage beyond led—apparently—straight back and lightless.
He leaned against the wall beside the doorway, thinking over options. Finally he said aloud, in a reasonably level voice, “I’m not afraid of the dark, and I can keep wandering around all day. I suspect you’ll be bored long before I am. At a certain point, however, while I don’t like to be discourteous, there will be limited options when I can’t see my surroundings.”
That should be enough of a hint. Teyanain found any direct reference to the baser bodily functions to be grossly offensive, especially when spoken of by outsiders.
“The dark is a safer place for some discussions,” a voice said from somewhere ahead and to his left. He listened for any indication of gender, age, temperament, and came up with nothing. Barely even an identifiable accent.
“I agree,” he said amiably, crossing his arms. “What would you like to talk about today?”
A faint chuckle sounded from, interestingly, the same place. The speaker apparently felt secure enough to stay in one spot instead of moving around; or, perhaps, knew that game wouldn’t disorient Allonin in the least, and so wasn’t bothering. “You are a very disruptive person, Allonin of the Aerthraim.”
“When needful, yes, I am,” he said. “Have I disrupted your business in particular, or was that a generic observation?”
Another chuckle, then a barely audible sigh—from someone else? Allonin couldn’t tell.
The unseen speaker sounded amused as he said, “Not my business, no. But you have upset some people who react badly to being upset. Your travel south is... unwise, at this time. I would strongly prefer you to accept our hospitality for the moment.” Lightness faded; the last sentence came out sober and even a bit sad.
“My travel south is necessary,” Allonin said flatly. “I do not wish to change direction.”
“The direction is only a problem in proximity with the timing,” the voice said. The first two and last three words held razor-toothed precision, and no trace of humor.
Allonin shut his eyes, realizing he’d been straining to see through the darkness—a futile reflex drawn from his growing annoyance. “The timing is what requires the direction,” he said, then realized he’d copied the emphasis. He bit the inside of his cheek, reminding himself: Patience. Patience. Hurrying would get him nowhere good.
“You have excellent patience,” another voice said, distinctly male, distinctly used to holding authority. “I thank you for the courtesy you have already shown.”
“And I appreciate your kindness, in return,” Allonin said without—much—irony. “Why is the timing an issue?”
“Tempers are raw,” the first voice replied. “Your recent actions were extremely disruptive.”
“My life is my own to risk,” Allonin said. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t see where the teyanain need to be concerned over an Aerthraim sticking his neck out.”
The silence hung for a few moments. He considered adding something to soften that statement, but decided to let it stand.
“Your death is your own to risk,” the reply came at last. “Your life is a more dangerous matter. I’m not concerned over someone killing you, Allonin of the Aerthraim. You of all people should know better than to see danger in such simple terms.”
The air turned colder as the man spoke, and the hair along Allonin’s forearms bristled. He read that as a touch of power: a silent warning to mind his manners.
Allonin resisted an urge to say something truly vile. He bit his tongue until he was sure he held control of his tone, then said, very carefully, “I think we’re nearing an edge where vague statements only muddy the discussion. I wouldn’t dare claim anywhere near the famed teyanain capacity for subtlety, and I’m concerned that I’ll misunderstand something important while circling the matter with such excellent courtesy.”
Laughter from the left. “Well said,” the second man, further to his right now, told him. “Very well. I would rather keep the dark in place. Our knowledge of your actual abilities is... uncertain enough that I’m advised by my athain to keep as many barriers between us as possible.”
Another cold warning drifted across the back of Allonin’s neck, a skittering sensation weaving along his shoulders. It confirmed his suspicions as to whom he faced.
“Understandable,” Allonin said. “I can sit, if that would make you more certain as to your safety. I will venture a perhaps impolite guess that I’m speaking to Lord Evkit and his Teyantin? Please do correct me if I am wrong, so that I may avoid giving offense.”
Chill warmed to heat across his shoulders, then faded into ambient neutrality. He read that as approval, and held back a sigh of relief.
“You may sit if you would find it less strenuous,” the second man said. “And your guess is correct, and made with impressive courtesy.” The man to the left—which had to be the Teyantin; Evkit wouldn’t be that casual—yipped laughter. Allonin had never met either man, but his illicit studies alongside his sister and from the forbidden books, plus the tales that came through the night market during his time in Water’s End, provided a basic grasp of the modern dynamics involved here.
“The courtesies and protocols of our two families, in high-tension situations, are strikingly similar,” Allonin said. “I used to find that more surprising. As for my abilities, I assure you I’m no threat to you, Lord Evkit. I am a guest in your home.”
“I will decide for myself whether you’re a threat,” Evkit said. “You’ve studied from very old books. All copies of those books were supposed to be destroyed long ago.”
The chill, this time, was internal. Those books lay within extremely delicate conversational territory. Allonin did his best to keep his body relaxed and his tone amiable as he said, “I don’t think anybody ever expected that to actually happen. Did you?”
“No,” Evkit said. “I hoped we held the only true copies. But that was a pale hope at best.”
Air currents shifted: he or the Teyantin had moved. Pacing restlessly, perhaps, or drawing together to confer with silent signals. Allonin held very still, pressing a hand against the cool rock at his back, and did his best not to squint into the darkness.
“When it was discovered what I’d been doing, my rooms were searched and anything even slightly questionable was destroyed,” Allonin said. “I watched the burning. Aerthraim Family no longer has copies of those books.”
The air continued to swirl. A vague hiss built in his ears briefly, obscuring any sounds that might offer information as to their movements. He shut his eyes and controlled his heartbeat to calm with a ferocious effort. Games. They love playing games. This is just another game. Don’t react.
“Thank you for that additional knowledge,” Lord Evkit said. He seemed not to have moved at all. “I notice that you very carefully did not say that all of your forbidden books were destroyed, only that Aerthraim Family no longer has copies in their possession.” He paused. “We have been watching you over the years,” he added. “And we are not entirely stupid.”
“I didn’t expect you to miss that,” Allonin said, blinking lazily into the darkness, and decided this had gone entirely far enough. He could feel a conversational precipice very close to hand. “I’ll rely on your good manners, Lord Evkit, and ask for a change of subject at this point.”
The Teyantin laughed, the sound echoing; so the room was empty or mostly so.
Evkit’s reply came from further to Allonin’s left than before, and held a strange underlying shiver. Now they’re bouncing their voices around to confuse me. Damnit. Allonin made himself relax his jaw, but allowed his fingers to remain pressed hard against the wall behind him.
“Yes. We will change the subject. I would not wish to cause you undue discomfort.” Evkit paused as though thinking, then said, “You ask for direct discussion. I have had to speak more plainly in the past twenty days than I have done in twice as many years. I expect I will have to continue doing so for some time to come, as well. It has been unpleasant.”
Allonin nodded slowly, sorting that out. So Evkit had been speaking to outsiders. More than likely, given recent events—“I will take another, perhaps impolite guess,” he said, “that you were present at the Scratha Fortress Conclave?” His hands began to hurt; he relaxed his grip on the wall and flexed his fingers, grimacing at the sharp pain.
“You are correct,” Evkit said. “I have seen your sister. She is in reasonably good health, all things considered. You have not seen her lately?”
“I last spoke to her before Ninnic’s death,” Allonin said. He inhaled through his nose, testing the air, and caught the faintest whiff of a floral scent. Marjoram, perhaps.
A humming sound, amusement perhaps, came from Allonin’s right. “That long ago,” the Teyantin said, then laughed.
Evkit gave a reproving grunt. The air swirled again, carrying a tumbling amusement that Allonin couldn’t properly interpret. The teyanain lord said, “I am told that you left your sister in the north and returned to Aerthraim Fortress, to stand beside the mahadrae and work against the northern king.”
That hit an unexpectedly sore spot. “I had what seemed like an impossible choice put before me,” Allonin said, fighting to keep his voice relaxed. He could hear the effort failing. “I chose poorly.” The floral note turned to bitter ash in his nose and throat, like a burnt offering to what should have happened.
“Your choice saved many lives,” Evkit said soberly. “Your sister’s actions and choices were by far the more foolish. I regret the rudeness in that statement, but I have no way to say that courteously while still speaking as directly as you have requested.”
“I understand,” Allonin said. His voice came out too thickly, too harshly. The impulse to say something, anything that might hurt the teyanain lord pressed against the back of his skull. It took tremendous effort to keep his tone civil as he added, “If I may have a moment, please?”
The air moved, warming and cooling around him in pulsing layers, then faded to a bitter, motionless chill. The ground beneath his feet seemed abruptly fragile, as though an unwise movement would crack the rock like thawing ice. Evkit said, with grave courtesy, “Of course.”
Allonin focused on his breathing, on slowing his heartbeat, and unclenching his hands. Was his unexpectedly emotional reaction genuine, or was Lord Evkit’s Teyantin prodding at him, testing to see if he could overbalance Allonin’s mind? No way to tell, in the dark.
When his internal balance stabilized and the ground once more felt safely solid, he said, “Thank you. I will speak very directly, offering similar apologies for any discourtesy. My sister’s presence at Scratha Fortress alarms me deeply. I want to get her—” He caught himself just in time, didn’t add the fuck, and finished evenly, “—I want her away from Scratha Fortress lands as quickly as possible.”
The Teyantin laughed again. He’d either heard or guessed at the unsaid words in that tiny pause. Allonin bit his lip, irritated that he’d come so close to blurting out such a vulgar phrase. The recent encounter with Tanavin, and then with Lamb, had set uncouth verbal patterns in his head—and by this point, he was almost certain that the Teyantin was meddling about with his reactions. He drew his shields more securely around him and waited, stolidly patient.
“Your sister’s presence at Scratha Fortress is alarming,” Lord Evkit agreed. His voice, and the Teyantin’s, seemed constant now. They’d given up trying to disorient their guest. Allonin chose to view that with cautious optimism. The teyanain lord continued, “That matter is, however, under control. The First Born and the bound lord have both given their permission and their protection. She is safe enough.”
